


Run

by Cloud9Dreamer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Needs a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nightmares, Rape/Non-con Elements, Road Trips, Stiles Needs a Hug, They both need therapy, lots of cuddles and asking if the other is ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-02-08 11:40:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloud9Dreamer/pseuds/Cloud9Dreamer
Summary: Derek has had enough. He needs to get away from Beacon Hills. Not sure if it'll be for forever, but he needs time away. Turns out that Stiles needs it even more. So they pack up and head out on the road, and what ensues is lots of bad dreams, cuddles, sass, and plenty of Starbucks and McDonald's. Where will they end up? Who knows. But they'll be together and that's all that matters.





	1. Runaways

I can't do this anymore. I just...I really can't do this anymore. Too much has happened and...there's nothing left for me here.

I sigh when Stiles' face comes to mind. Yeah. Yeah, I'm...I'm gonna miss him, but...his dad is here, and Scott, and the rest of their Pack. Me, though...I'm nothing. I'm not part of the pack and I have no family keeping me here.

I throw what little clothes and books I have in the loft into a duffle bag. Everything that's in the vault will stay there unless Cora or Malia decide they want anything there. I just...I don't want any more reminders of everything I've lost.

I'm just zipping everything up when I hear a certain Jeep pull up outside. Soon, I hear and smell Stiles coming up the stairs to the door. I gave him a key last summer so he would be able to come over and have a quiet place to study outside of school or the library -which is always rowdy with younger teenagers.

When Stiles steps inside, I'm there to welcome him. He looks horrible, really. Deep, dark bags under his lost eyes, face getting more and more pale and hallow from lack of sleep and...is he not eating right? He smells SICK. It's completely different than the scrawny, sarcastic kid I met years ago. Now he's traumatized and TOO skinny and it PAINS me to see him like this.

"Stiles," I start when he just stands there inside the doorway. I step over and shut the door, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and leading him further inside. "Are you awake right now?"

He suddenly looks up at me with wide, amber eyes. "Am I dreaming?" he asks, his voice breaking as tears fill his eyes.

I shake my head. "No. No, Stiles, you're not dreaming," I assure him. "I promise this is real. You wanna count my fingers and make sure?" When he nods, I hold up my hands and let him count all ten fingers three times until he's satisfied.

He lets out a drawn-out, worn-out sigh, looking down at his own fingers. "Sorry," he mumbles. "I just...I woke up and...I think I started disassociating and...I just ended up here."

Right. It's nearly three in the morning. I was planning on leaving at sunrise so I could get out on the road. But there's no way I can leave Stiles like this.

"Do you want something to eat?" I offer.

He shakes his head. "No. No, that's ok. Um...could I have some water, though?"

"Of course." I go to the fridge and grab a bottle of water, bringing it over to him. I frown when I see his hand shaking as I hold it out for him, and he takes little sips. "Here, sit down," I tell him, guiding him over to the bed. When he sits down, he sighs, then yawns. "Drink as much as you want," I say, instinctively reaching up to rub his shoulder.

His eyes close as his heart slows. "It's...It's still really hard to sleep without, y'know, nightmares."

"I understand," I reply. "Have you tried anything? Breathing methods, melatonin, grounding methods, those sorts of things?"

He nods his head, swaying a little, and I'm glad that I made him sit down. "It helps AFTER I've had a nightmare, but...y'know, doesn't PREVENT them."

"It'll take time, Stiles," I tell him.

"How MUCH time?" he asks.

I shrug my shoulder, my hand moving up to try and smooth out his wild hair. He looks good with longer hair, if only he'd take care of it. "I didn't start shaking my nightmares until last year."

He reaches up to rub his eyes. "Years? I don't think I can make it that long."

"Yes, you can, Stiles. You're the strongest out of all of us," I assure him. "You're the one that holds the Pack together."

He slowly blinks his eyes open, dazed and glossy from exhaustion. "I'm so TIRED, Derek," he breathes.

"I know," I whisper, taking the bottle of water from him and setting it on the floor before pulling the blanket up. "Lay down."

He does so, and doesn't say anything as I unzip and pull off his famous red hoodie. With that and no shoes to begin with, he curls up in my bed like a little kid, burying his face in one of my pillows. I pull the blanket over him up to his chin, making sure he's nice and warm. Again, acting on instinct, I run my fingers through his hair, trying to smoothe down the crazy chestnut strands.

There's no way I can leave now. Not with him asleep in my bed. I need to be here to make sure he doesn't wake up alone. So I grab an extra blanket and lay down to sleep on the couch.

 

When I wake up later, the sun is up and shining through the large window. Looking over at the bed, I see that Stiles is still curled up tight under the covers, still totally asleep. Good. I get up and take a shower, then get dressed and go to the kitchen to get started on breakfast. I hope Stiles likes pancakes.

Come to think of it...Stiles and I have known each other for years at this point...but I still don't know that much about him. My history is there for him to know, given how much of it he's now been involved in. But all I know about him is that his mother died, he has ADD, and he's a Spark -though he hasn't realized it yet. I don't know what he's allergic to, if he doesn't like to wear other hoodies because he has sensitive skin, or if he secretly hates orange juice.

Why do I care?

I look back over at him as he rolls over onto his other side, revealing how his cheek has creases in it from the pillow. He looks just like a little kid when he sleeps, pouty lips parted and face smooshed into the pillow or his hands. Maybe that's why I care. He may be eighteen now, but he still reminds me of a little kid.

Once I've finished making pancakes and bacon, I fill two glasses with water, then go to wake Stiles. He startles when I gently shake him awake, eyes wide as panic fills the room.

"Shh, it's ok, Stiles," I say quietly, rubbing his shoulder. "It's just me. You're safe. Everything's all right."

He slowly calms down and rubs at his eyes. He needs way more than a few hours sleep to be well-rested again. "I'm awake?" he asks, voice hoarse from sleep.

"Yeah, you're awake. I promise. Are you ready for breakfast?" I ask.

He huffs and shakes his head. "Believe it or not, no. Eating's been really tough."

I knew it. No wonder he's so skinny now. "You need to eat, Stiles. It's not good for you to deprive your body of fuel. Do you think you'd be able to eat one or two pancakes and a couple pieces of bacon for me?"

He swallows and covers his eyes with his arm. "Yeah. Ok."

"Ok."

I bring the plates over, not caring if we get crumbs or syrup on the sheet. As long as Stiles is eating, it's worth it. I don't know if I should ask him about his nightmares, or if I should be talking period. I've never been very good at...well, communication in general.

"I wanna leave Beacon Hills," Stiles suddenly says, completely out of nowhere.

"...Yeah? Why?" I ask.

He looks down at the second half of his first pancake. "I just...I can't stay here. Everywhere I go, everyone I see...it's just like constant reminders of everything that's happened and I just can't handle it anymore. I feel like I'm losing my mind all over again," he finishes with a wince, like he's trying to hold himself back from crying.

I reach over and smooth his hair down. "I'm leaving Beacon Hills. Not sure if for good this time. But...if you'd like, you could...you could come with me."

He looks up at me with wide eyes. "Really? You don't think I'd be annoying or embarressing?"

"You're embarressing enough," I deadpan. "No, Stiles. It'd actually be nice to have some company."

"Even annoying company?" he smiles, but it feels like a phantom of his old smile.

"You're not annoying, Stiles. You were at FIRST, but I know you better now." Not as much as I'd like to, but still better. "You're just excitable, that's all. You're mouthy. If you were in a dire situation, it wouldn't be a good thing, but most of the time, it's just...endearing."

Now his smile is genuine, albeit small. "Aww, didn't know you cared about lil' ol' me, Der-bear."

I roll my eyes, even though my chest gets warm. "Don't call me that. Eat your pancake. And drink your water."

When we're both finished, I clean our plates, then offer Stiles to use my shower. I give him some of my clothes to borrow, then tell him to spend the rest of the day packing and thinking about leaving. I tell him to talk to his dad and Scott, so that they know he's planning on leaving home. I squeeze his shoulder and ask if he'd like me to drive him back myself, but he shakes his head and says he'll be all right, so I let him go, listening as the clunky Jeep sputters and pulls away.

I guess I have a lot of thinking to do, too. I really would prefer to have Stiles get out of here, too. He's...He's gone through way more than he ever should have as a high school kid. No, he's not a kid anymore. Not only is he eighteen now, but...everything he's been through has made him grow up too quickly. He knows death, mental breakdowns, possession, a whole world of supernatural things that he should have spent the rest of his life just hearing about them in fairy tales.

I run my hands over my face. Lydia is leaving for MIT. Scott is staying and going to vet school. Kira is also staying here and studying to be a history teacher. Malia...Honestly, I don't know what Malia wants. She's been talking about just going back to living in the woods. I wouldn't mind that at all. She's been through too much, too. The fact that they let her out of the mental hospital and right into high school with everyone else angered me. If she chooses to be a coyote the rest of her life, then she's free to run around and do as she pleases. Theo is still in high school, but he plans to become a major league lacross player. It'll be a good outlet for his anger.

But Stiles...I'm sure he HAD plans. Maybe he wanted to be a detective, another sheriff. Maybe he wanted to go into the FBI. Those would all be good options for him and his deductive skills.

But he doesn't need all that right now, no school, no homework, nothing like that. He needs a break. A long break. He needs endless roads and meeting new people, arguing over stupid things like what music to listen to and where we should stop to eat. He needs the soothing vibrations of the car to fall asleep to.

I need to go shopping for a few things. I already know he's made his decision. Now it's only a matter of him talking to his family.

 

Later that night, I have a new bag with things for Stiles, and a little bit later, he shows up, already yawning and...still wearing my clothes from earlier. My wolf growls in approval.

"Hey, Der-bear!" he calls out as he walks into the loft like he owns the place.

I just sigh. Even if I tell him not to call me that, he won't listen. "Made up your mind then?"

"Yep," he says, flopping onto my bed. "Dad says it's a good idea to take a gap year before going back to school. Something about helping me make up my mind about what I wanna do...and, y'know, working on not being such a psycho."

"You're not a psycho, Stiles," I tell him, bringing his bag next to mine so we can grab them and go. "You've been through a LOT. You have every right to be traumatized."

"Great, I have PTSD. Exactly what I need," he sighs.

"Stiles, I have PTSD," I admit.

His eyes narrow as he looks up at me. "You do?"

I look away so I don't have to see his eyes. "I've been through a lot, too. I'm only now starting to work on it."

"How? I mean...do you go see a therapist or something?"

"Online. Skype sessions," I tell him, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You should talk to someone, too. I know it sucks. You of all people know that I hate talking about things like this. But...it really helps."

He hums and rolls onto his side, pulling the blanket up over him. "Maybe. Sorry, I'm...I'm really tired."

I pat his leg as he curls up like this morning. "Sleep tight. I'll wake you up before we leave."

He yawns one more time, humming when I smooth down his hair. He's asleep in seconds. Like this morning, I go to the couch and lay down, falling asleep to the soft sounds of his heartbeat and breath.

 

I wake up just before my alarm, and I quickly shut it off so it doesn't wake Stiles. I double-check our bags, then go to the kitchen to cook the last breakfast in the loft. Waffles should be enough to wake Stiles up. Blueberry waffles, yeah.

Once I have several waffles ready, plus two cups of coffee, I go to gently shake Stiles awake. Like yesterday, he jolts awake, then rubs at his eyes. "Holy shit," he groans, rolling onto his bed.

"You didn't have any nightmares," I suddenly realize.

"Yeah. 's not every night," he sighs as he sits up. "Did you make breakfast?"

"Hope bluebery waffles are ok," I say, patting his shoulder. "You want breakfast in bed again, your majesty?"

He just smirks up at me. "Oh, so are you my knight in fuzzy armour now?"

"If it'll keep you happy and quiet," I smirk right back, going to get his plate for him, as well as his coffee.

"You made me coffee. I KNEW you loved me," he giggles, eagerly reaching out for his breakfast.

"You probably don't need it, but I knew you'd be grouchy without it," I say, sitting next to him.

"So, where are we going?" he asks just before he stuffs his face.

"Not really sure," I reply. "I was thinking heading back to the East Coast."

"Back to New York?"

I shake my head. "No. Not New York. Maybe Massachussets or something."

"You don't wanna go to Disneyworld?" he grins.

"Do YOU wanna go to Disneyworld?" I ask him.

"Fuck yeah, I do. I've ALWAYS wanted to go to Disneyworld!"

"Hm." Maybe I can get some tickets. I know I have the money. And it would be really nice to see Stiles so excited, running around, eating sweets, making jokes about the characters, riding rides. That would be a great change.

We finish eating, and I let Stiles take a quick shower, a little annoyed. Why am I annoyed? Oh. He slept in my bed, wearing my clothes. He smelled like me. But now he's washing that all away and putting on his own clothes. Hah. Well, he'll be in my car soon.

My instincts do settle once we have all the bags in the trunk and Stiles is in the passenger seat. He tilts the seat back and props his feet up on the dash, and I would normally say something about it, but he has his hood up, eyes closed and definitely looking ready to go back to sleep. I turn the radio to a simple classic rock channel, keeping it down low so it doesn't disturb Stiles. I'm just pulling out of Beacon Hills when he falls asleep.

I drive and drive for hours, reaching over and scratching his head whenever I hear his heart rate start to pick up. Eventually, I take off my jacket and drape it over him. I can't stop myself from smiling when he hums and pulls it up closer. I may not be his Alpha, but I still feel responsible for him. I still feel partly responsible for not noticing that he was possessed by the Nogitsune. I should have known. I should have smelled how sick he was getting, how wrong he smelled. I won't let anything like that go unnoticed again. I'll stay close to him; make sure he's safe.

 

It's around noon when I wake Stiles to ask where he'd like to eat. He yawns and rubs his eyes, opting for McDonald's, and I just don't feel like denying him that. So I pull into the rest stop town and stop at McDonald's. Stiles immediately runs to the bathroom, telling me to just order him a bunch of nuggets and a shake. By the time he comes back out, I have our food ready.

"Dude, how long was I asleep?" he yawns again when we sit down.

"About six hours," I tell him. "But you needed it. Do you feel any better?"

"I'm still tired," he sighs.

"It'll take some time for you to catch back up," I assure him. "But you should stay awake when we get back in the car so you'll fall asleep later."

"Yeah, you're right." Then he smirks. "Sure you just don't wanna hear me sing the rest of the day?"

I roll my eyes. "As long as you're not terrible."

"I sing as good as Beyonce," he grins.

We get out back on the road, and Stiles does in fact start singing...purposefully badly. Just to annoy me, I swear. But he eventually quiets down and starts singing normally, and it's a nice change of pace. The air doesn't feel tense or awkward like it was when we first met. There's no underlying fear or anxiety. It's just peaceful.

Whenever Stiles starts nodding off, I turn the music up and poke his side. The sun starts to set, and I drive for a few more hours once it goes down, finally stopping at the next motel. I ask for a room with two twin beds, out of earshot of Stiles so he won't give me a look. Doesn't matter, though, since as soon as we're in the room, he jumps onto a bed and moans.

"'m so tired," he mumbles, cheek already smooshed against the pillow.

I drop the other bags down at the foot of my bed. "At least get undressed first."

He smirks and opens one eye up at me. "Damn, Derek, at least buy me dinner first."

"I DID buy you dinner," I remind him, already undoing my own belt.

When he doesn't reply, I look back down at him, finding his face pale, the sharp scent of fear rolling off of him and making me wince. "No, no no no, Stiles. I was...Fuck."

I grab my bag and head to the bathroom. What the fuck was that? What the fuck was I thinking, egging him on like that instead of shutting that shit down? Jesus, his face. He looked like...He looked like I was about to rape him.

The swoop of my stomach has me dropping to the toilet in case I get sick. Was he? Did someone...? Now I bite my lip and grip the toilet bowl to keep my wolf under control. I swear to fucking God, if someone hurt him like that, I'll tear them apart. I'll rip their dick off and shove it up their own ass, make them bleed, make them cry, make them-

A knock on the door has me growling. "D-Derek?" I hear Stiles call softly. "I'm-I'm sorry I freaked out. I just...Um...The...The Nogitsune...really fucked with my head and...liked to make me dream about...y'know...being raped...by you."

Why me? Why ME? I bend back over the toilet as my stomach swoops again.

"I'm pretty sure it's because I trusted you so much," Stiles goes on. "The Nogitsune probably wanted me to end up hating you or something. But...I mean, I KNOW you'd never hurt me like that, Derek. I KNOW that. But...I still have memories of those fucked-up nightmares and...my mouth still runs away and then you said that and started taking your belt off and I just..." I hear him sigh, can smell the anxiety seeping off of him. "Fuck, this is just the first night and I'm already fucking it up. I'm sorry."

I immediately shake my head. "No. No, Stiles," I call back. "It's my fault. I should know you better by now to not say things like that."

"...Will you come out?"

"...When I'm changed. You should change, too."

"Ok."

I take my time changing into my pyjamas. I hate that I made him so scared. I haven't been the cause of his fear in years. And I hate that I made him afraid even back then. It's not his fault that I was so messed up back then. It's not his fault that an evil spirit possessed him and tormented him every minute of the day. It's not his fault that I still barely know anything about him.

Sighing, I stuff my dirty clothes into my bag and head back out. Stiles is on his bed, changed into his own pyjamas and texting on his phone. He gives me a tiny smile when he sees me. "Just reassuring my dad that we haven't been picked off by small-town hillbilly zombies or something."

At least he can still make jokes. "In that case, don't tell him that our car broke down and we got picked up by a fat trucker."

His smile grows, warm and honest. "I love that you can sass me back. I love this side of you."

"What are you talking about? This is how I always am," I smirk, climbing onto my bed.

"No, you're usually more like this," he says, then makes a deep frown, using his fingers to scrunch his eyebrows together. "All dark and brooding and pouty and grr, 'I'm the Alpha'."

"I'm not an Alpha anymore," I remind him.

"Yeah, but that's what you were always like when you WERE an Alpha."

"I was a SHITTY Alpha," I say.

"...Not ALL the time," he says. "I mean...You weren't BORN an Alpha, right?"

I shake my head. "No. I was born a natural Beta. Laura and my mom were born Alphas. Cora, she has the makings of an Alpha, too."

"What about your dad?"

"He was a Beta, too," I smile. "Most of the women in our family were Alphas, really. Natural leaders. I was never meant to be a leader. You obviously saw how well I was when I TRIED."

"You were under a lot of stress," Stiles says, setting his phone aside and laying on his side. "You were dealing with a TON of shit, Derek. It'd still only been a few years since Kate and your family...and then Laura got killed and then there was the kanima and the Argents and..." He sighs and shakes his head. "Yeah, you were under a TON of pressure. You weren't ready to be a leader yet."

His words make my chest feel warm, and I lay down, too. "I think you'd be a much better leader than any of us."

Even with the low light of the lamp and my werewolf eyes, it's hard to see him flush as he licks his lips. "You think so? I mean...I know Peter said I would have made a better werewolf than Scott, but..."

"Though I hate to agree with him, you would make an EXCELLENT werewolf, Stiles. But that choice is yours."

He nods his head and looks away. "I mean...I'd like the extra strength and stuff. But, I don't know. I just...I don't want anything else making it difficult to control myself."

I nod, too. "Like I said, your choice."

He hums, then yawns. "Ok. I can't really be a night owl anymore," he pouts.

I can't help but smile as he curls up under the covers and scowls. Maybe he doesn't like that it doesn't smell like me? He's basically slept surrounded by my scent the past two days. I wonder if he'd be all right with me giving him one of my shirts so that he can smell me and scent me while he sleeps?

No, he'd probably find that weird. Maybe when we're a bit closer.

I turn out the light and get myself under the covers, rolling onto my back. It's silent except for our breath and heartbeats until, almost impossibly-quiet from the other side of the room: "Night, Derek."

I pause. "...Goodnight, Stiles."

A content scent fills the room, and I'm once again lulled to sleep by the steady sound of Stiles' heart and breath.

 

Until a choking cloud of fear permeates the room sometime in the middle of the night. I jolt awake when I hear a cry follow. I jump off my bed and over to Stiles', climbing up and pulling him into my arms. He's shaking so hard, covered in sweat and cold.

"Stiles! Stiles, wake up!"

He screams as he wakes up, and I quickly cover his mouth so the other people in the motel don't think he's getting murdered.

"Shh. Shh, Stiles. It's ok," I try to assure him. He's shaking even worse now, tears running down his face and onto my hand where I have it covering his loud sobs. "I know. I know." I pull him close against me, gently rocking him in my arms. When I feel he won't scream, I let go of his mouth and pull him even tighter as he cries. "I know. It was just a dream, though. Just a dream, I promise. You're awake now," I tell him. "You're awake, and you're safe. Everyone is safe. I promise."

He buries his face in my neck, getting tears and drool all over me, but I couldn't care less. Before I know it, I'm cradling him in my lap and rocking him, rubbing his back and whispering over and over again that he's awake and safe. It feels like hours have passed until he starts to calm down, hands fisted in my shirt as he hiccups and sniffles.

"It's ok, Stiles," I whisper. "Everything is all right. It was just a bad dream. I've got you. You're safe."

He gasps and swallows thickly. "D-Derek."

"I'm here. I've got you," I assure him.

"I'm so sorry!" he cries.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Stiles. Nothing at all," I tell him. "You're such a good man."

"I got you arrested because I thought you killed your sister," he chokes out.

"You were just trying to do the right thing," I say. "You were scared of me back then. You didn't know any better."

"I was so mean to you."

"I was way worse to you," I remind him. "God, Stiles, I used to beat you up."

He sniffles and burrows closer to me, not shaking as hard as before, but still trembling and feeling too cold. I bring the blanket up around him, hoping my body heat will rub off on him.

"You know me better now," he mumbles. "You don't hurt me anymore."

"That doesn't change the fact that I DID," I murmur, rubbing my thumb across his arm. "I wish we could...start over...maybe with different circumstances."

"I don't think we would've gotten as close."

"We're STILL not very close," I admit. "I still don't know that much about you."

He's quiet for several moments, but doesn't move away. "My favourite colour is red. Like my hoodie and a lot of my flannels. My favourite movies are the 'Star Wars' movies. I used to fantasize about Han Solo. Both young and old." I smirk at that. "My guilty pleasure is 'Cupcake Wars', especially around the holidays. Halloween is my favourite holiday. I love dressing up, even though I'm too old to go trick-or-treating now. And I'm not crazy about Lydia anymore."

That catches my attention. "How come? I thought you were head-over-heels for her."

He shrugs his shoulder half-heartedly. "I just...I think I realized that all I really wanted was to be close to her. And we're good friends now, y'know. We respect each other. I don't need to prove how much I care about her anymore."

I hum and reach up to try and smooth down his messy hair, a low growl rumbling in my chest when he immediately relaxes and nuzzles into my neck, unintentionally scenting me. "Do you wanna go back to sleep?"

He hums and doesn't let go of my shirt. "Can you...Can you stay?"

"Of course," I reply without hesitation. "Whatever you need, Stiles."

We rearrange ourselves so we're laying on our sides, with me spooning Stiles from behind. I drape my arm over him and press my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat and his chest rising and falling with every breath. I make sure the blanket is up high enough to keep him warm, too.

"...Derek?"

"Hm?"

"...Night."

"Goodnight, Stiles."


	2. Learning

Stiles is still fast asleep in my arms when I wake up the next morning. His heart is steady, his body warmer than last night, and it makes me even more relaxed to know that I scented him the rest of the night. I bury my nose in his hair, inhaling his warm scent; cinnamon and sunshine. It's so good. I love that he grew his hair out. Not only does he look better without that buzzcut, but it's so soft and smells nice. I feel a growl building in my chest as he hums in his sleep and pushes him closer back against me. His ass pushes back against my cock, and I bite my lip and will myself not rub against him. God, I've never slept with someone that wasn't using or abusing me. And Stiles is so...fuck, I almost hate to admit it, but he's so fucking sexy. Tall, lean, with building muscles. Fuck, his arms might as well be porn, and those hands, those fingers. His eyes, his lips...Shit, I'm definitely getting hard.

Reluctantly, I extract myself from Stiles, wincing when he whimpers and tries to push back to find me again. I make it off the bed and run my fingers through his hair once before heading to the bathroom to take a cold shower.

When I get out, frustrated from no relief, Stiles is sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Morning," he yawns.

"Morning. Why don't you take a shower and I'll go out and get us some breakfast from Starbucks," I suggest.

He yawns one more time and nods his head, looking adorably sleep-mussed as he gets up, wobbling tiredly to the bathroom. I head out to the nearby Starbucks we passed last night, getting a bunch of sweet breakfast items because I know that's what Stiles likes. By the time I get back to the motel, Stiles is showered and dressed, laying on his bed and watching cartoons.

"You still watch cartoons?" I tease, handing him his bag and coffee.

"Hey, don't diss 'Spongebob', Der," he grins, immediately going for his vanilla bean frappucino. I watch as he takes a long suck from the straw, eyes closed as he lets out a little "ahh". "'Spongebob' is the best show ever, so don't judge my good taste."

"How do you know I don't have good taste?"

"I've never seen you watch TV," he points out. "You're always either reading or working out. I've never seen you relaxing."

"Well, I kind of had a lot to deal with back in Beacon Hills," I remind him.

"Yeah, I know, and that sucks. So, like, this is the first time I've been able to see you without worrying about all that stuff," he says. "Just a road trip and arguing and eating fast food. All that good stuff. Stuff that we don't have to worry so much about."

I nod my head in agreement. "Yeah. Yeah, it's nice."

"So does this mean you're gonna get fat now?" he grins.

I give him a look. "NO. I just don't plan on working out as excessively as I used to."

"Yeah, probably a good thing if we go to the beach or something. Don't want everyone pretending to drown just so you'll run in and save them, all shirtless and hairy and looking like a god."

I fight back the heat in my face. "Is that what people have told you I look like or what YOU think?"

He shrugs his shoulders, not even ashamed. "Have you SEEN yourself, Derek? You look like a twink's wet dream. The ultimate Bear. Or Wolf. Like...some guy from the cover of a romance novel. And, yes, I know that for a fact, because Scott likes to read them."

I can't help but snicker, shaking my head. "So you consider yourself a twink, then?"

"I am SO a twink," he smirks proudly. "I've got the ass to prove it."

"Well, I've never really paid attention to your ass, so I wouldn't know," I tease, laughing when his jaw drops.

"Derek, you've known me for how many years now and you're telling me you've never just STARED at my ass?!" he accuses.

"Stiles, you were underage. It wouldn't have been appropriate."

"But I'm legal NOW!"

"We were also preoccupied with keeping people and ourselves from dying."

"But not NOW!"

I just roll my eyes and finish my breakfast. Once we're both finished, we gather our stuff back up and head out on the road. I let Stiles Bluetooth his phone to the radio so he can play his own music, and I'm pleasantly surprised that it's not just annoying pop music. Whenever a song he really likes comes on, he reaches over and smacks my arm in announcement. We stop at a gas station and get some snacks. Werewolves and teenagers go through a lot of calories. Stiles, to my utter "surprise" puts down a porn mag on the counter. I glare at him until he pouts and puts it back...then comes back with a copy of GQ.

"Seriously, Stiles?"

"Hey, I'm bi. I have options, Der-bear."

Though I had a feeling he was bisexual, it's still satisfying to hear him say it aloud. But I still hold the magazine back out to him. "I'm sure you can find plenty of porn on your phone, Stiles. You don't need a magazine."

"For a second, I thought you were gonna say, 'You have ME, Stiles. You don't NEED anything else'," he smirks as he goes to put the magazine back.

You DON'T need anyone else. But I definitely don't tell him that.

Once we're back in the car, we're out of the road again, and I let Stiles take a two hour nap before I wake him back up. Another day of driving ends. At the very least, we're out of California, and that alone makes us feel better. When I park at another motel, Stiles follows me to the front desk.

The man at the front reeks of weed, and already looks stoned, but he at least speaks properly. "Hi. Can I help you?"

"We need a two-bed room," I tell him.

"Actually, make it one bed," Stiles interjects, flushing when I turn to look at him. "I...slept a lot better...when you held me last night."

"...Ok. One king, please."

When we get to our room, Stiles flops on the bed and sighs, hugging one of the pillows to his chest. "I'm so tired," he groans.

"Like I said, it'll take time for you to catch back up," I remind him, setting our bags down at the foot of the bed. "Whaddyou want for dinner? You wanna go out, order delivery?"

"Yeah, pizza sounds awesome," he smiles.

So I order from a nearby pizza joint, and we change into our pyjamas. Stiles searches through the local TV channels while we wait for our delivery, then digs in when it arrives. While he watches some movie on TV, laying on his stomach with his feet up in the air, I lay back against the headboard and try to read. But I find myself distracted when Stiles shifts. His shirt rides up, exposing pale, mole-speckled skin. At some point, he says he gets hot and takes off his pants, now in his boxers. His legs are toned from years of running and lacross, leg hair so thin it's like he barely has any. I force my eyes back on the pages of my book, but can't focus at all.

Soon, thankfully, Stiles falls asleep, the empty pizza box beside him and crumbs still on the corner of his mouth. I throw the pizza box in the trash, use the end of my shirt to wipe his mouth, smirking when he makes a face, then pick him up and turn him around so he's laying in bed the right way. He wakes a little at that, looking up at me with blurry eyes.

"Derek?"

"I'm here," I assure him, turning off the TV and the light, climbing in behind him. He immediately moves until his back is pressed against my front, and pulls my arm over him himself, sighing when I bend my legs up under his and pull the blanket up higher.

"You're ok with this?" I ask him softly.

He hums, heart slowing. "Feel safe," he mumbles.

The statement makes my chest feel too warm, and I hold him closer to me. "I always want you to feel safe with me."

Sleepy content fills the air, and he drifts off to sleep, warm and trusting in my arms.

 

The next morning, I once again wake up before Stiles. We've shifted at some point in the night. Now I'm laying on my back with Stiles laying halfway across my chest, one of his legs draped over mine. No nightmares, it seems. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, smiling when his lips move, mumbling nonsense in his sleep.

He smells fantastic in the morning. Like warm apple pie. And he's a lot warmer now. Despite stating his nightmares the Nogitsune gave him about me assaulting him, he's willing to let me hold him as he sleeps, trusting me not to hurt him. I move my hand down to rest against the side of his neck, feeling his steady pulse under my palm and scenting him with my wrist.

As much as I'd love to stay in bed longer, I know that the more time we're on the road, the more distance between us and Beacon Hills there'll be.

"Stiles. I need to get up," I whisper, gently shaking him.

He whines and curls in closer to me. "Noooo. Don' move."

"Stiles, we have to get back on the road," I tell him. "You can go back to sleep. I'll get our stuff in the car, then I'll come get you, ok?"

He hums in response and lets me get out of bed. I make quick work of brushing my teeth and changing into some regular clothes. When I'm finished, I make sure we haven't left anything behind, then take our bags to the car. When I return, Stiles holds his arms out to me.

"Carry me," he whines.

"You're spoiled," I smirk, but pick him up and carry him out to the car, setting him in the passenger seat. I lean the seat back how he likes it, then grab one of the things I bought for him: a heated blanket. I drape it over him and turn it on low, brushing his hair back from his face as he yawns. "Sleep tight."

Once I'm back out on the road, I move my hand over to his leg, just to keep a point of contact between us. He wakes after a little while to eat brunch, then promptly passes back out until lunch, and I keep him awake after that.

"I really like this side of you," he says while he eats a taco from Taco Bell.

"What side?"

"Where you're smiling and not scowling," he grins. "And you're cuddly."

"I wasn't always a scowling, heartless bastard," I deadpan.

"I know," he goes on. "But I never knew you like that, so...it's like this is me seeing the real you for the first time. And I really like you -it! This side of you, I mean! Not that I DON'T like you, of course! I mean, I've been fantasizing about you ever since I was sixteen. I mean -fuck! I can't help it! Have you SEEN yourself? When you shoved me against my door back when you needed me to hide you from the cops, I wouldn't be surprised if you could tell how fucking hard I got. I had to jerk off in the bathroom and I'll bet you heard that!"

I can't help but laugh, my face as red as his, but unable not to find his rambling funny. "Yeah, I could tell. That's why I kept my distance from you and tried not to do that again."

"But you did when you got de-aged. Threw me right back against the wall and if we weren't in a crisis, I would've been more than happy to let you fuck me. We were the same age then."

"Yeah, that wouldn't have been a good thing at the time," I agree.

"...But I'm legal now," he mumbles.

"You're also traumatized and having nightmares almost every night."

"Yeah, but you hold me and it makes me feel better."

"Cuddling at night doesn't constitute sex, Stiles," I sigh.

He sighs, too, pouting for several hours until we get dinner. I decide that I'll drive through the night and let Stiles just sleep. He eventually does, still telling me "goodnight, Derek" like the last few days.

Yes, I've known Stiles has gotten aroused around me before. But he's still a teenager. He's still clouded with raging hormones, though he doesn't masturbate as often as he used to, I'm sure. Still...I know that neither of us are ready to have sex. As far as I know, Stiles is still a virgin. I'm sure he's EDUCATED, but he MUST be inexperienced. And as for me...Well, we all know how my past times have gone.

 

The sun eventually rises, and my eyes are getting tired, so I find a nearby motel and let Stiles sleep as I check out a one-bed room. If it really helps Stiles feel safe, helps with his nightmares, then I'll hold him every single night. I bring our bags to the room, then come back to carry him in. He wraps his arms around me and nuzzles into my neck, his lips moving against me as he mumbles something.

When I get to the room, I lay him down on the bed and unwrap him from the heated blanket. I shake him a little to wake him up. "Stiles. Do you wanna undress yourself? Or are you too tired?"

He whines and rubs his eyes. "You do it," he mumbles.

"Ok."

I unbutton and unzip his jeans, carefully pulling them off. I decide to leave him in his boxers and t-shirt, pulling the blanket up over him. I quickly change into my own pyjamas and use the bathroom, then return to climb under the covers, too. Stiles immediately rolls over to face me, eyes glazed and unfocused.

"What is it?" I whisper.

He doesn't say anything, just reaches up and cups my face, rubbing his hands over my scruff and making the dumbest, most adorable little smile. "You're so fluffy, even when you're not a wolf."

I can't help but smile, too. He's so cute when he's so sleepy. "You like my beard, huh?"

"Mm-hmm." I freeze when he leans forward and rubs his cheek against mine. "So sooooft."

A deep rumble fills my chest as he presses himself close. I wrap my arms around him and rub circles into his back. "So you're not mad at me anymore?" I ask.

"Hmmmmno," he hums. "'m jus' tired. An' you're so warm." I reach up and cradle the back of his neck as he nuzzles into my neck again. "An' you smell so good."

"You smell good, too," I tell him.

"What do I smell like?"

"Like cinnamon. And sunshine."

"Mmmm. You smell like campfire smoke. An'-An' Old Spice. But, like, GOOD Old Spice," he mumbles.

"Good?" I ask.

"Mm-hmm," he hums, then yawns, shivering until I pull the blanket even closer to him. "Night."

"Goodnight, Stiles."

 

When I wake up, the sun is high in the sky, and I rub my eyes and run my fingers through Stiles' hair. He hums in his sleep and licks his lips. It's unfair that he's so cute. I decide to wait until he wakes up, too, before we go out and get something to eat. This can be our rest day, I guess.

Absentmindedly running my fingers through Stiles' hair, I grab my phone and text Lydia. She and I have gotten close over the years, too, surprisingly. She's incredibly smart, and I'm really proud of her for getting into MIT. I know she'll outshine everyone else.

'How long has Stiles been attracted to me?' I ask her.

I get a reply only a few minutes later. 'Probably from the beginning. Pretty sure he stopped liking me soon after. You should be lucky, Derek. He's quite the catch.'

'He is. But he's already been through a lot. I don't want to hurt him.'

'He trusts you, Derek. A lot. He called me totally drunk one night crying about how much he liked you. Said he wanted to be closer to you but didn't want to annoy you.'

'He can be annoying sometimes, yeah, but I care about him.'

'Not hard to tell. You've always done your best to protect him and make sure he doesn't get into trouble. I was really glad when I heard that you were taking him on a road trip. Best way for you two to get closer.'

'He told me that the Nogitsune made him dream about me raping him.'

'Yeah, he told me about that, too. But he knows you'd never actually hurt him like that, Derek. He knows you care about him.'

'I do. Very much.'

'Does he know that?'

'I hope so. I would have thought I'm making it very clear, considering we've been sleeping in the same bed the past couple of nights, with me holding him.'

'Because he trusts you. You make him feel safe.'

'I hope I do. I have no idea what he wants out of this trip other than to get as far away from Beacon Hills as possible.'

'He wants to get as far away from Beacon Hills with YOU, Derek. You know he wouldn't have gone by himself or with anyone else. You're the one he would do anything for. There are things he wouldn't even do for Scott, but YOU. He loves you, Derek.'

I look down at Stiles, who smacks his lips and curls his fingers into my shirt. So cute. 'I want to protect him and make him happy.'

'Then just keep doing what you're doing. The next time I hear from you, you better have juicy details about how loud he is in bed. Or the shower. Or your car.'

I roll my eyes, but can't help but smile. 'We'll see how it goes, Lydia. I'll talk to you later.'

'Kiss him, Derek!'

I chuckle and set my phone aside. Stiles starts to shift as he begins to wake up. "What time 's'it?" he grumbles.

"Almost ten-thirty," I tell him. "You don't have to get up. We can have a day off and leave tomorrow."

He sighs at that, nuzzling into my neck and making me growl in approval at his scenting. "Good idea. I don't wanna leave the bed. You either."

I smirk at that. "You don't want me to go out and get breakfast?" I tease.

"Not if it means you won't be holding me anymore," he grumbles, climbing up to lay on top of me, like he thinks his weight is enough to hold me down. "No moving."

"And what if you need to use the bathroom and I sneak out?" I grin.

He lifts his head and gives me the cutest, sleep, serious face. "I'd jerk off all over your bag."

I throw my head back and laugh. "Like that would stop you from doing it anyway!"

"Don't fucking laugh at me, you dick! I don't need your socks to get off!"

"No, but mine are probably better than your holey socks!"

I only laugh harder when his jaw drops. "Are you disrespecting my 'good-luck' socks, Derek Hale?! How dare you! I graduated high school because of those socks!"

We laugh and talk for a little while longer until we decide to get up and have breakfast. Stiles refuses to actually get changed, so I make him put on some pants so he's appropriate to be seen outside. I drive us out to a little diner and let Stiles order whatever he wants. I just really like seeing him actually eating. Hopefully, by the time this little trip of ours is over, he'll be at a much healthier weight.

When we're finished, we head back to the hotel, and Stiles pulls me back down onto the bed. The warm scent of content is wonderful to smell from him. I rub my hand under his shirt and smile as he nuzzles into my neck. We turn on the TV and watch random shows and cartoons, whatever pops up. We're not really paying attention.

"Your hands are bigger than mine," Stiles points out, pulling my hand up with his. "I'm taller than you now, though."

"Only by a couple inches," I remind him, allowing myself to play with his long fingers. "I'm still stronger than you, though."

He snorts at that. "Whatever. You're only stronger 'cause you're a werewolf. And you work out like a maniac."

"Didn't you work out for lacross?"

"Yeah, but apparently I'm not very good at building up muscle mass."

"Well, you were under a lot of stress. Stress isn't good for getting stronger. When you're more relaxed, you can try again," I tell him.

He sighs and pulls himself a little closer to me, still letting me play with his fingers. "What do you think I should do?"

"For college?"

"Yeah."

"I honestly think you'd do very well in law enforcement. Maybe as a detective or something in the FBI," I say. "Something where you'd be able to use your deductive skills."

He hums. "Maybe. I don't...I don't wanna think about it right now."

"Ok." I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, smiling when he hums. "You like me playing with your hair, don't you?"

He hums in agreement. "Feels good," he mumbles.

I don't know who starts it, but our fingers link together. I can feel his heartbeat, slow and steady. His body is warm and relaxed against mine. I bury my nose in the top of his head. God, he smells so good. Why does it feel so right to hold him?

"Der?"

"Hm?"

"...We're gonna stay together...right?"

Unable to stop myself, I press a kiss to the top of his head. "Right."

"I don't want you to leave again," he mumbles.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assure him. "I won't leave you again."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Stiles soon falls asleep after that, so I continue to hold him and watch whatever's on the TV. Stiles hasn't had a nightmare since we started sleeping together. Is this really helping him? He smells so much more relaxed. I feel more relaxed, too, holding him, scenting him, making sure he's safe. It settles my wolf.

Stiles snorts in his sleep, eyes opening halfway. "Derek," he breathes, definitely half-asleep.

I move him onto his side facing away from me, then wrap my arms around him and curl myself around him, pulling the blanket up around him. He sighs and pushes himself closer to me.

"Love you," he murmurs.

My chest suddenly feels so warm, my wolf growling with approval. I press a kiss to the back of his head. "I love you, too, Stiles." He hums and settles back to sleep.

My chest is still warm. Why does this feel right? Why was it so easy to tell him I love him? Why does it feel so right to hold him? To kiss his head? It feels like I've been waiting for this all my life.

I press my hand to Stiles' chest, feeling it rise and fall with each steady breath, his heart beating nice and slow.

Can I have this? Can I have him? Someone who believes in me. Someone who trusts me, who comes to me above everyone else. Stiles. Stiles has always been the one I can trust, the one I think of when something bad happens. My anchor.

My anchor.

The thought burns in my chest, in my bones. Did I not know this before? Was I really that blind? Of COURSE Stiles is my anchor. What else would he be? My mate?

THAT thought settles in my groin, and I pull back my hips from Stiles' ass so he can't feel my cock getting hard.

Stiles is my mate?

"Derek," he mumbles in his sleep, and it makes my heart feel so warm that it aches. He's dreaming about me while I hold him. He's not having a nightmare. He feels safe in my arms.

I bury my face in his hair. My anchor. My mate. I never thought I'd have an actual person as both. And it's Stiles, of all people. Bright, beautiful, ridiculous, smart, brilliant Stiles. Stiles, who always trusts me and looks out for me. My mate. My wonderful mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have three chapters finished, but chapter four is killing me. i promise i'm still working on it. let me know what you think!


	3. Try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! technically this contains non-con. guess i should put a second warning at the beginning of this. stiles starts having a smexy dream about derek and derek decides to touch him while they're in the car. stiles wakes up and tells him to keep going, and derek asks him if that was all right, to which stiles says it was. someone made a comment on an old fic of mine where a character did something to another character while they were asleep -and i'm extremely sensitive to any sort of criticism, especially while i'm not mentally stable- and my brain went "your work is trash" and i deleted the fic instead of just tagging it correctly.  
> i'm not in a good place right now and that's why my updates are incredibly sporadic and sometimes don't get tagged properly. i would very much appreciate comments, but please understand that things are very difficult for me when my brain is so messed up. I wish there was a separate archive warning just for non-con because rape feels too awful for what i was trying to express in that scene and my conflict showed in derek

The next morning, I kiss the back of Stiles' neck before I untangle myself from him and get out of bed. I smile when he whimpers as soon as I'm not holding him anymore. So I kiss his forehead and rub his cheek, taking off my shirt and giving it to him to hold while I go take a shower. By the time I get out, he's sitting up and exchanging his own shirt for mine.

"Like my shirt better?" I grin.

The most adorable blush blooms on his cheeks as he looks down. "It smells like you."

My wolf growls in appreciation, and I move to sit on the edge of the bed, gently cupping the back of his neck. His impossibly-long eyelashes flutter as he leans back into my touch. "Another night with no nightmares," I point out.

He closes his eyes and sighs through his nose. "Yeah. I swear it's you, so..." He opens his eyes again, cheeks still pink and warm as I reach up to cup his face. "Will you keep holding me? When we sleep?"

"Of course," I reply. "Whatever you want, Stiles."

The sweet little smile he makes should be illegal. "So...guess we're back out on the road again today, huh?"

"Unfortunately." I'd much rather spend a week just lounging in bed with him, holding him in my arms and kissing his face, scenting him as much as I can. But we both know that we have to get out of here. "We should cover some more ground today," I say, rubbing his soft cheek. "You wanna go out for breakfast or just get something fast food?"

"Fast food is fine," he replies. "I'm probably gonna sleep a lot."

"I know," I smile. "And that's ok. You can keep my shirt if you want."

"What was that blanket you put on me the other day? It was really warm."

"An electric heated blanket," I tell him. "I thought it would help you sleep."

"Yeah, it did," he snickers. "Probably 'cause it was as warm as you are."

I figured that was part of what makes him so relaxed when we cuddle. Werewolves run hot, hotter than normal humans. Of course the extra heat would be good to help Stiles calm down.

"Did you...Did you get that just for me?" Stiles asks.

"I wanted you to be comfortable," I say. "I also got you some other things, but it hasn't looked like you needed them."

His eyes suddenly widen. "Wha'd you get me?" he asks, like a kid who's just been told Christmas came early.

I can't help but laugh. "If I just gave them to you, they wouldn't be a surprise if you needed them."

He rolls his eyes. "Party pooper."

I pinch his cheek and stand up. "C'mon. Get as dressed as you wanna get dressed. Get your stuff together. I'll go start the car."

We get McDonald's, and Stiles eats all his hashbrowns and drinks all of his sweet tea -a medium because the last thing he wants to do is wake up too soon from a nap having to use the bathroom. He passes out soon after, my shirt pulled up around his nose and the heated blanket wrapped tightly around him. I hum along to the radio as I drive, pausing during every commercial break to reach over and rub Stiles' head or thigh.

At some point, he wakes up and looks at me with blurry eyes. "Derek."

"Yeah?"

He hums and settles back down, right back to sleep. Has he always talked in his sleep like this? It's so cute, especially since he keeps saying my name in his sleep. Absolutely adorable.

I continue to drive, my hand now just resting on Stiles' thigh. I smile every time his breath hitches and he smacks his lips. Let's see. How long would it take to get to Disney World? I know Stiles would love it, and I've never been there either. I'm sure he'd love the rides and seeing all the characters. I'm sure he'd adore the food, too. The thought of him whining when we leave about how he'll never eat such awesome food again makes me chuckle. I'll have to order tickets in the next few days so it'll be surprise. We'll head there first. Maybe I'll find us a place to rent on the beach or something. Would Stiles like the beach?

I'm broken from my thoughts when Stiles' heart starts to pick up. I wait a few moments, in case he's having a nightmare. He lets out a little moan, and his thigh shifts underneath my hand. Maybe he's just having an exciting dream?

But then he moans again, his head tilting back, and the smell of arousal starts to fill the car. My hand automatically tightens on his thigh.

"Derek," he moans softly, his hips rolling a bit.

My mouth runs dry, and I clench my teeth to keep my eyes on the road, though I dig my fingers into his leg, only making him shift again. With each moan or whisper of my name, his scent turns from warm and relaxing to crisp and sweet and intoxicating. Jesus, Stiles. A sex dream in the car? Moaning my name? Getting hard for me?

My own cock is quickly filling in my jeans, and I take my hand away from Stiles to unbutton and unzip them, giving myself a little relief. But then my hand is right back on his leg, this time under the blanket. My fingers rub his inner thigh, and I can feel the heat of his cock just out of reach. My mouth waters now at the thought of that cock, probably so pretty just like the rest of him; probably big, too.

"Ahh, Derek," he whimpers, thrusting his hips up and jostling my hand until it's right in his lap. We both groan as my hand fits right over his cock, tented in his pants and boxers.

I can't stop myself from squeezing him, growling in approval when he moans and thrusts his hips up into my hand. Fuck, if he's just sleeping, dreaming about me...it's ok to make him feel good, right?

So I let my hand drag over his cock, definitely bigger than I thought it'd be, but slimmer than mine. I find the tip and pinch it with my fingers, feeling the little wet spot where his pre-cum has leaked out. The blanket falls down as Stiles shifts in his sleep, body heating up by itself.

I move up and run my fingers across his waistband, the soft hairs on his stomach tickling my skin. Just when he starts to whimper again, I slip my hand into his boxers and wrap my fingers around his cock. The jolt of his hips and the whine he lets out have me biting my lip and working hard to focus on keeping us on the road. But, God, he's just thrusting up into my hand and gasping and it's breathtaking every time I glance over at his flushed face and neck. I want to bury my face there, taste his sweat, smell how aroused he is thinking of me with my hand on his leaking cock.

He has one hand clutching the armrest of the door, the other fisted in his -my- shirt like a lifeline. The sight of him alone wearing my clothes is enough to get me so hard.

"Derek," he gasps. "Fu-, Derek! Ahh!"

Shit, he's waking up. Shit, but his hips are still moving and he feels so good in my hand. But I can't just...I can't just do this.

He's just waking up when I managed to get my hand out of his pants. I don't expect his hand to grab my wrist, eyes glossy and pupils blown as he licks his lips. "Don't stop," he whispers.

Fuck.

He pulls my hand back to his lap, and I get my hand back into his boxers. The way his head arches back, his neck exposed, has me stroking him tight and slow.

He tries to fuck up into my hand again, whimpering when I don't change my pace. "Derek. Don't tease," he breathes.

I can't even think of words to say. Now that he's awake, he's making even more noise, and each one goes straight to my cock.

"Fuck, Derek," he moans, one hand reaching back to grip the headrest of the seat. "Ahh, 'm so close! Faster!" I move my hand faster, thumbing at his leaking slit. His breathing picks up, his moans getting higher in pitch.

"Come for me, Stiles," I murmur, not even caring if he doesn't hear it.

He must have, though, because only a few moments later, his back arches off the seat, his mouth open as his cock twitches. Hot, sticky spurts of cum cover my hand and the indside of Stiles' boxers as he cries out, looking and sounding like something straight out of porn.

When he falls back in his seat, catching his breath, I pull my hand back out. Fuck, he smells so GOOD now. Before I can stop myself, I shove my hand inside my own underwear and quickly jerk myself off, biting my lip and grunting as I come, too.

Thank God for the cruise setting on the car, the endless and empty desert roads of Utah.

It takes a few minutes for us both to come back down and for me to shamelessly wipe my hand on my shirt, and Stiles is, of course, the first to speak. "I wanna do that...like, a LOT."

I can't help but laugh breathlessly. "You're gonna jump me later, aren't you?"

"If we weren't in a moving car, I'd jump you NOW," he shoots back, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Fuck."

"Yeah," I agree. "Was that...Was that all right?"

"Are you kidding me?! That was the best way to wake up ever!" he smiles, cheeks still flushed, hair messy. He looks so good, the scent in the car full of satisfaction. "Like I said, we need to do that again. PLUS some."

"Some what?" I smile.

"Like, kissing, for one thing," he snorts. "Kissing and more cuddling and kissing WHILE cuddling. And, fuck, I wanna suck your dick."

"Christ, Stiles," I hiss, feeling my cock twitch in interest again. "I JUST came."

"What? No werewolf stamina?" he teases. "Scott came to me freaking out his first month, y'know, when he came, like, five times in one night." He suddenly gasps. "Does this mean we can have marathon sex? Like, can you go all night?"

I can't help but smile. Same Stiles. What did I expect? For a sexy dream and a handjob to completely change him?

"Stiles, even werewolves have limits," I tell him, shaking my head fondly.

"Have you tested yours?"

"Have you tested YOURS?"

"Damn right I have. My record is six times in one day."

"Are you making that a challenge?" I smirk.

"If you're up to it," he smirks right back.

"You may not survive," I tease.

He just grins, wide and teasing. "What a way to go."

I snort and shake my head. Oh, Stiles. Same old Stiles, just...even sexier.

 

The rest of the day, Stiles teases me relentlessly. He twists in his seat, whimpering and saying he needs to get out and stretch. When I stop and get us lunch, he stretches against the car like a woman in a bikini on a car wash calander. He even looks over his shoulder at me as he arches his back, like he's begging me to grip his hips and fuck him against the car. The little shit.

When we stop at a motel, I make sure to ask for one bed. Stiles jumps right onto it and lifts his arms above his head.

"Paint me like one of your French girls," he grins.

"You're awful," I reply dryly, setting our bags down.

He reaches out for me with grabby hands. "C'mere."

I get on the bed and climb on top of him, smiling when he tangles his fingers in my hair and pulls me down for a kiss. It's warm, very warm. His lips are even softer than I'd imagined, and as my hand moves up and down under his shirt, I can feel how warm he is, how relaxed.

He whines when I pull back. "Nooo."

I chuckle and pinch his side. "What?"

"Let's make out like horny teenagers," he pouts.

"You ARE still technically a horny teenager," I remind him.

"Exactly. And I have the most attractive guy on the planet in bed with me," he smiles proudly, like it's some great feat that I'm on top of him. "How can I NOT want him to fuck me silly?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Is THAT what you want?" I ask, rolling my hips down against his, dragging my cock against his through our pants.

His pretty lips part as he gasps, his fingers gripping my hair. "Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah. C'mon, Derek. Fuck me."

And, God, I'm more than happy to do just that...but then I remember his nightmares. I stop moving my hips, ignoring the pang in my chest when he whimpers. "Stiles. Stiles, are you sure? What if I do something that scares you?"

"I'll tell you," he says, licking his lips. "I know you'd listen if I said to stop...right?"

"Of course," I reply immediately, leaning up to kiss his forehead. "I wanna make you feel so good, Stiles."

"I know," he smiles, gently cupping my face. "I know you do, Der."

I relent when he pulls me down to kiss him again. "You tell me if I do or say anything that scares you, ok?"

He nods his head. "I promise." Then he grins. "Y'know, I saw you naked when you changed back into you after being a wolf for the first time. But you've never seen ME naked."

I can't help but grin, too. "Should I fix that?"

"You better."

I lean back and pull his shirt over his head, tossing the shirt over my shoulder. When I reach for his pants, I give him a look, and when he nods, I move on and pull his pants and boxers down. My mouth waters at the sight of his cock, long and skinny and already getting hard.

Stiles reaches up and taps my chest. "You, too, Der-bear."

"Don't call me that in bed," I snort, but pull my shirt up over my head, then undo my jeans, pushing them and my briefs down and kicking them off the bed.

Stiles' cheeks turn bright red as his eyes fix on my cock. "Fuck."

"Ok?" I ask. He's longer than I am, but I'm thicker. Not monster-dick thick, but enough to probably make him a little anxious.

He swallows and nods his head. "Yeah. Yeah, just...The, uh, the you in my nightmares was way bigger so...I'm just a little glad. I mean, not that you're NOT big, 'cause you ARE, it's just, y'know, not gonna tear my ass apart, right?"

I quickly shake my head. "No, not at all. Don't worry. I'll make sure you're stretched enough."

"How long will that take?" he asks.

I bite my lip. "I've never been with a man before. I'd say at least a while, until you feel relaxed enough."

He licks his lips again. "You'll take care of me, right?"

"Of course," I promise, leaning back down to kiss him. "I'll always take care of you, Stiles."

His eyelashes flutter. "Mieczyslaw," he murmurs.

"What?"

"That's...That's my first name," he says. "My real name."

Oh. Ohh. I kiss him again, longer and deeper than before. I gently nibble on his bottom lip before pulling back. "My Mieczyslaw."

His pupils get wide as he gasps, his arousal spiking. He pulls me down to kiss him again, and I go happily, licking his upper lip and waiting patiently until he opens his mouth for me. I roll my hips down again, both of us moaning as our cocks rub against each other. I want to make this so good for him. His first time. OUR first time. I want to make him scream my name, wake up the whole motel and let them know that he's feeling amazing because of me. I want to make marks all over his pale body. I just have a feeling that he'll love them and want to leave his own on me. I want to cover us both in cum, make it so we smell like each other.

Stiles whimpers when I pull back, his lips shiny and swollen from the intense kissing. "Derek," he whispers. "Touch me."

"Touch you where?" I ask, moving to kiss along his jaw, moving back to suckle on his earlobe.

He moans and wraps his arms around me. "Everywhere," he gasps, thrusting his hips up. "Fuck. I want you EVERYWHERE."

"Whatever you want, baby." I feel him shudder underneath me. "Like that?"

"You can call me whatever you want," he smiles. "Just fuck me already."

"So impatient," I chuckle, moving down to his neck to finally taste his scent, to mouth at his pulse point and suck and nibble to leave marks.

He moans and keeps thrusting his hips up against mine. Who knows how much time I spend on his neck, but by the time I finally pull away, I see that I've left a dozen bright red hickies on his pale skin. My wolf is certainly satisfied with the claims I've left on him.

"Derek, c'mon," he breathes.

"I know, I know," I chuckle. "Hold on, just a second." I quickly get up and go to my bag, fishing out a bottle of lube.

"Fucking FINALLY," Stiles sighs, spreading his legs like it's second nature.

My brain short-circuits for a second at the sight of his cock and balls on perfect display. "Jesus, Stiles."

He just smirks, reaching down to stroke his cock. "See something you like, Derek?"

I toss the lube and climb right back on top of him, kissing that smirk right off his face and replacing his hand with mine. The high moan he makes as he fucks up into my hand is perfect.

When I break the kiss, he's gasping, face and neck red. "Derek. C'mon. Hurry."

I grab the lube again and slick my fingers, bringing them down past his pretty cock and balls to his hot hole. As soon as my fingers begin to rub little circles against it, Stiles arches off the bed and whimpers. Anxiety suddenly seeps into the air.

"Feel ok?" I ask him, my eyes glued to his face.

"Fucking get inside me," he grits out.

"All right, all right," I say. "Relax, Stiles. I'm not going anywhere."

I press just the tip of my finger past the first ring of muscles, but then he completely freezes, his scent souring. I take my finger away and shake my head. "Stiles, seriously, if this is too much for you, we don't have to do it this way," I tell him softly. "I won't be mad."

He rubs at his eyes, which are getting red as he fights to hold back tears. "'m sorry," he hisses, still rubbing at his eyes. "I just keep fucking up."

I wipe my fingers on my shirt and lean down to kiss his forehead. "You're not fucking up, Stiles. You didn't do anything wrong. You're just not ready, and that's not a bad thing," I try to assure him, gently taking his hands and kissing his fingertips. "We can do something else. I could suck you off or rim you. I'll do whatever you're comfortable with."

"Why do you even bother with me?" he mutters.

"Because I love you."

He looks up at me with those enormous amber eyes like I just told him werewolves DON'T exist.

"You...You love me?" he asks in the softest voice.

"I do. I love you, Mieczyslaw," I tell him, gently cupping his cheeks. "I feel stupid for not realizing it sooner. But I don't think it happened all at once. I think it happened really slowly from the night you held me up in the pool for hours. You were in danger, you hated me, I'd been nothing but horrible to you, but you kept me alive until you were so exhausted that you were gonna die WITH me."

"I just...I don't know," he mumbles. "I just...I couldn't let you die."

"I'm glad you didn't," I smile, carefully moving down so I'm laying on top of him. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, his heart slowing down. "Then I would've never learned how strong you are."

"No, I'm not," he mumbles.

"Yes, you are. You're so strong, Mieczyslaw," I smile. "You've gone through way more than anyone should've, but you're still here, still smiling, still cracking jokes. It's amazing."

His eyes blink open, tears now filling them. "...I...I love you."

"I love you, too," I say softly, lightly kissing him and feeling him relax underneath me. "Do you wanna stop here for tonight? We can just kiss and cuddle if you want."

"Is that ok?"

"Whatever you want, Stiles. I'm all yours," I assure him.

His answering smile makes me feel impossibly warm. "I like the sound of that. All mine."

"It's true," I smile right back. I don't feel right telling him he's my mate, at least not yet. Are we even dating at this point? Boyfriends? Partners? "Mate" sounds a little too animalistic. I'm sure he'll figure it out on his own anyway.

So in the end, we put our underwear back on and cuddle underneath the blanket, just kissing and talking. Stiles' heart is much slower now, and he smells even happier than before. He even giggles when I tickle his side at one point. This. This is what I want. My mate, safe and sound in my arms as we relax. This is what I've dreamed of. And...I actually get to have it this time, right? Stiles is strong. So much stronger than any of us give him credit for. And I trust him above everyone else. I know he would never betray me or try to kill me, even if he was mad at me. I know he would respect me, never abuse me. He's really the only one for me, and I won't let anyone take him away from me again. I won't leave him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Had this in my folder for a while now. Still working on it, but wanted to post it and see how it went. Sorry for so much angst, but these boys have been through a lot and I want them to deal with it.


End file.
